


Burning Secrets

by you_guys_are_losers



Series: Spideychelle Week 2k19 [2]
Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: F/M, decathlon captains au, secret relationship au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-16 03:14:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19309498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/you_guys_are_losers/pseuds/you_guys_are_losers
Summary: Peter Parker and Michelle Jones are captains of the decathlon teams at their respective all-boys and all-girls schools. The teams have been at one another’s throats in academic decathlon for decades, so of course Peter and MJ can’t let the rivalry die out now.There’s only one problem– it’s a bit difficult to keep the quips coming when all either one can think about is the “study sessions” that they enjoy in private.





	Burning Secrets

 

“Dude, where are you?” Ned’s voice as it travels through Peter’s phone is hushed, clearly a whisper that is not meant to be heard by anyone around him. The urgency of his tone causes Peter to wince as he brushes past a group of siblings who are huddled in front of a store window, nearly knocking over with the smallest of them in his haste. 

“Sorry, sorry!” Peter calls over his shoulder.

“Yeah, you should be,” Ned says over the phone, causing Peter to wince. “This is the second time this week.”

Peter readjusts his bag on his shoulder as he jogs, temporarily holding his phone in place against his shoulder with his chin. “I’m on my way, I’m sorry-”

“Practice was supposed to start ten minutes ago!” Ned’s interruption grows slightly louder as his panic causes him to forget his attempt at whispering. “ _They’ve_  already started drills, Peter. It’s starting to look really unprofessional.”

Peter curses under his breath as he gets caught just before a crosswalk. The light is just now switching to red, and the hand looks like it’s taunting him as traffic begins to race over the street he needs to cross.

“Look, I’m two blocks away, man,” Peter breathes, running his free hand through his hair as he clutches the phone tighter. “I just need you to stall a little longer. Can you guys practice flashcards or something?”

There is a moment of quiet on the other end of the phone, and Peter waits for a response as the sign across the street finally tells him that he can walk. There is still radio silence as Peter walks, all the way until he is halfway across the street. 

“Ned?”

“Look, I would,” Ned stammers in response to Peter’s prompt. “It’s just…”

Peter waits for a moment, turning to cross the next street ahead of a group of older women who are taking their sweet time. “Ned?”

“It’s  _her_ , man!” Peter’s best friend bursts, his voice rising an octave. “She keeps staring over here, and I just-- I can’t do it, bro, I can’t. She… She scares me.”

Peter can see it, now: the sign over the awning that reads “Delmar’s Cafe,” swaying slightly in the breeze. He weaves through the crowd, narrowly avoiding a collision with a hefty stroller as he darts up to the door.

“Well, you’re good,” Peter pants, stepping through the door and speaking over the jingling of the bell. “I just got here, I’ll be back in two seconds.”

The smell of coffee, thick, rich, and delightful, washes over Peter. He takes one moment to close his eyes and rest, just letting the incredible scent of his favorite place wash over him as he catches his breath. Delmar’s is one of the best parts of his school day, and the only one that comes even close to smelling this good.

“Mr. Parker,” greets a voice that Peter knows, causing his eyes to spring open. When they do, he is greeted by the grinning face of Mr. Delmar behind the counter, raising an eyebrow at him. “I was wondering when you’d show up. Your friends have been hogging my best booth for half an hour!”

“Yeah, uh, I got held up at school,” Peter responds, offering the owner of the cafe a slightly flustered smile. “Don’t worry, I’ve got money for my order-”

“Nah, not today, kid,” Delmar replies, gesturing back to the booth. “It’s paid for.”

Peter blinks several times, glancing over his shoulder then back at the cafe owner. “What?”

“I said it’s covered. Don’t worry about it.”

Peter lets out a breath as just a little bit of his stress evaporates. “Really? The number five?”

“Slightly smushed, just how you like it,” Delamar finishes, waving a hand. “And some  _horchata_ , iced. Now get out of my hair, kid. I’ve got customers!”

“Thanks, Mr. Delmar,” Peter responds, grinning. Before leaving, he pauses to scratch the head of the cat behind the counter. “Bye, Murphy.”

“You, stop harassing my cat and get to it, eh?”

The cat lets out a lazy meow of protest as Peter brushes past the counter, jogging to the back booth. Every table he passes on the way is full, which is really no surprise. Sure, the cafe gets a flood of professionals in need of a coffee fix in the morning, but the real rush is after school. Students need a place for study groups, to work on homework, and to spill gossip… And what better place to accommodate a horde of sleep-deprived teens than a coffee shop?

And no one is more sleep-deprived than the academic decathlon team from Midland Boy’s Academy.

They are seated in the table in the back right corner, all waiting. Ned is in his normal spot, farthest back, with Flash, Abe, Charlie, and Tristian all filling the booth as well. The table is filled with a mix of study materials, as well as everyone’s normal orders half-finished in front of them. And there, waiting for Peter, is his usual food in front of his spot.

“Well, look who it is,” drawls Flash, stretching out in his spot to take up more room in the booth so that there’s even less space for Peter to sit down.

“I’m sorry, guys,” Peter breathes, avoiding Ned’s pointed stare as he perches on the edge of the booth. Sure, he’s kind of hanging off, but he knows that today he deserves it. “I got, um… Stuck after school. May wanted me to, uh, talk about a grade I just got on a Chem test.”

“Great. Well, now that we know that our team captain sucks at chemistry, can we get started with drills?” Flash interrupts.

Peter is about to speak when Abe interrupts. “Actually, Flash, the person on the team with the lowest average in organic chemistry is you.”

“Oh-kay,” Peter interrupts quickly before things can get out of hand. “So, before we begin-”

“Whaddup, dorks? ”Peter immediately recognizes the voice: a confident, self-assured alto with a hint of a smirk. 

The others at the table all stiffen, gazing at someone over Peter’s shoulder. Ned looks terrified, though he’s trying to hide it, and even Flash shuts up for the time being. Peter, however, doesn’t move for a moment, drawing in a breath in an attempt to calm his heart, the pounding of which has nothing to do with his rush to get here.

Still, as Peter turns to face her, he cannot quite keep the pounding under control. “‘Sup?” He offers, his eyes rising to Michelle Jones’s face slowly. 

The eyes that meet his own are dark and mysterious, filled with intelligence that cannot be ignored as they scan his face. Still, there is something else in them… A dark gleam of something different, unidentifiable. She allows her lips to twist into a smirk.

“Just running drills,” the tall girl drawls, leaning a shoulder against the edge of the wall lazily. “I’m not driving our team too hard… Don’t want to exhaust them over a match with a team whose captain can’t even bother to show up to practice.”

Peter glances at the booth across the cafe-- her booth, where the Township School for Girls decathlon team is pretending to study as they listen in on the conversation. They’re Midland’s biggest competitor in decathlon, and they have been for decades; the rivalry between the schools is more than a superstition, it’s tradition.

A tradition that is kept alive and well by the two teams’ competing captains: Peter and MJ.

Peter raises an eyebrow, taking the opportunity to slide out of the booth and casually take a step forward so they’re facing one another. The opposing captain is taller, sure, and she definitely cuts the more intimidating figure. In her long khaki pants and her uniform shirt and vest, MJ somehow manages to appear unnervingly authoritative. Her eyes are sharp, her gaze completely focused on him… The only thing that could even dream of undermining her semblance of power and put-togetherness is the presence of several curls escaping her messy ponytail, framing her face.

“I won’t complain if you don’t push your team to their full potential,” Peter responds, giving her a once-over with his eyes. “It’ll be a lot more satisfying when we cream your team if you’re not expecting it.”

Behind him, Ned draws in a sharp breath. MJ’s eyes gleam dangerously, and she arches one eyebrow at him, smirk widening.

“Please, Parker,” she hums, eyes not leaving his own as she steps closer. “You’re not going to be the one catching me off-guard.”

“W-well, that’s not what you were saying when we got into your classroom after the last scrimmage,” Ned chimes in, causing both Peter and MJ to glance in his direction. Peter can’t keep back a grin, turning to look at MJ once more.

It’s true; a battle of pranks has been known to take place every so often between the two teams, pioneered by the rival captains. And yes, Peter definitely did secure the last victory in said war when he and Ned snuck into the classroom where the Township team pracices and left a thick layer of glitter on top of all of the ceiling fan blades-- and then a few repurposed nanny-cams, just for good measure.

The footage of a swearing, glittery Michelle Jones is something that Peter will treasure for the rest of his life.

“Maybe that was an inconvenience,” MJ admits, her gaze sharpening like steel as it meets Ned’s own. “But inconveniences can be… repaid.” The dark irises, brewing with a storm, slowly travel from Ned’s gaze to Peter’s own, sending a chill down his spine. For a moment, mischief gleams in those eyes-- and as suddenly as it appeared, the storm is gone, and MJ is standing up straight again. 

“Have a nice day, losers,” MJ hums, turning and casting Peter one last glance before she begins to stride back to her booth. The team that was eavesdropping there quickly resumes their pretend studying. 

“Alright, Liz, Cindy- you two are going to be taking down constructive criticism today. Betty, you and I are going to…”

“Okay,” Peter stammers, turning back to the rest of his own team. They all appear slightly dazed, making them appear as if they have all received a slap to the face but haven’t quite processed it yet. “So, flashcards.”

Peter sits down in his seat again, his hand finding the sandwich Mr. Delmar brought him, which is smushed down flat, the way he likes it. He continued with instructions as he brings the sandwich to his lips for a bite. “So, we’re going to start with chemistry-”

As soon as the first bite passes his lips, Peter cuts off completely.

His mouth is on fire, burning hotter than anything he has ever tasted before, and his eyes begin to water immediately as he begins to cough. Ned, Flash, and the rest of the table turn to him in alarm as he drops the sandwich, burying his mouth in his elbow as he attempts to cough out the spice. It feels like it is climbing up the back of his throat, only growing hotter and hotter with each breath.

“Peter, what-” Ned begins, but Peter waves a hand to get him to stop talking.

“Hor-horchata,” Peter hacks, reaching for his drink. The mix of the dairy and sugar should help, theoretically, soothe the burning.

Ned grabs the drink and shoves it into his hands, and Peter tips the glass back into his mouth immediately. The taste, though it does calm the burn slightly, immediately causes him to gag. The drink is not sweet and soothing the way it should be-- it’s salty, so salty that it causes Peter to cough once or twice with renewed vigor.

“What’s going on?” Ned demands as Peter swipes at his watering eyes with a napkin.

Peter, however, stumbles to his feet and whirls to face the booth in the opposite corner of the restaurant, where MJ is currently holding up her phone, filming. She presses the button to end the video with a pointed finger, smirking, as Peter’s body tenses.

“Wh-what was that?” Peter splutters, sure that his face is bright red as he raises a white napkin to his streaming eyes and nose.

“Ghost pepper,” MJ remarks casually as the team behind her mutters in amusement, all watching him with satisfaction. “Oh, and I had the sugar in your horchata replaced with a nice helping of salt. Did you like it?”

“Come on, man!” Peter bursts, turning to face the counter where Delmar is situated, watching. “I thought you said you wouldn’t get involved!”

“Whoa, there,” Mr. Delmar counters across the cafe, his eyes dancing with amusement as he raised his hands. “I didn’t do anything. Miss Jones asked for a number five and a glass of horchata with salt instead of sugar. It’s not my job to tell my patrons what they want if they’re the ones paying.” Still, there is a twinkle in the shop owner’s eyes as he ends the discussion. “Now, stop with the shouting. It’s scaring away customers.”

Peter shoots him a look, in response to which the cafe owner winks. “I’m going to take a minute outside,” Peter sighs as he wipes at his eyes again, turning to walk out the back door into the alley.

Ned exchanges a glance with Abe, who pipes up, “Chemistry, question one. Charlie, you first: this law states that the amount of heat needed to change one substance to another depends on the substances and not on the reactions involved…”

The response to Abe’s question fades away as Peter steps into the alleyway, letting out a breath. The cool air feels good in his burning mouth as Peter blows his nose a few times, then wipes the remaining moisture away from his eyes with his sleeve before tossing his tissue into Delmar’s dumpster.

The sounds of the city overwhelm his super-senses, but they do not completely mask the crunch of loose grit under the shoes of someone approaching. “I’m good, man, I’ll be right back-” Peter begins to tell Ned, turning to face whoever his coming to join him. He stops dead, however, when he realizes who it is. 

“What are you doing out here?”

“Told my team I had a call to make.” MJ is striding down the alleyway from around front, a crooked grin resting on her lips as she advances far enough to be hidden from the street.

“I thought it was clever,” she remarks, continuing forward until she is past the dumpster behind the cafe and standing just slightly too close for comfort. “I bought that powder weeks ago, but the stunt with the glitter gave me a good reason to use it. You know, I still find more when I wash my hair, Parker.”

Peter wipes his eyes one more time, allowing a warm, frantic tingling to fill his chest as he looks up at the girl standing across from him. “What can I say? I think it looks good on you,” he remarks, his own little smile toying with the edges of his burning mouth. “And come on, MJ. I know it’s good to make the act convincing, but that was just brutal.”

MJ lingers in his personal space for a moment, her eyes giving him a quick once-over that causes his heart to race. Then, just when the tension between them is about to simmer over, she turns and crosses the alley in favor of leaning against the wall opposite him.

“I had to be sure they believed it,” she counters. “And you’re the one who sold it, not me… That nose makes you look like you have the flu. But then, maybe I think  _that_  looks good on  _you_.” 

MJ sticks her hand in her pockets, raising a smug eyebrow. “So, how’s the heat, Parker? Is it as bad as it’s supposed to be?”

Peter arches an eyebrow in return, taking a step closer, then another. “It’s pretty bad…” he admits, tipping his head to the side as he studies her.

Peter watches as the smirk on her lips begins to drop, and, though MJ attempts to appear relaxed against the wall, her body stiffens. He steps closer, closer to MJ in the alley, and her dark eyes don’t leave his face as he does. His sensitive hearing picks up on a pounding in her chest, one that causes him to grin, too.

In the privacy of the alleyway, with Delmar’s dumpster screening them from view, Peter raises a hand to her waist, stepping so close that his chest is nearly touching that of the taller girl. His other hand rises to the nape of her neck, and his fingers tangle lightly in the wisps of baby curls there as he breathes in the scent of mocha on her breath. Her hands, out of instinct, rise to meet him, one resting on his chest and the other rising to the back of his own neck, where her fingers coil in his hair.

Peter brings his face close to hers, eyes flicking down to her lips for a moment before they come back to her own dark, brown irises. It is only then that he finishes his sentence.

“...which is something you should have thought about before letting me to this.”

A soft yelp of realization escaped MJ’s lips as Peter stands on tiptoe and presses his mouth to hers, gently tugging her close as his eyes flutter shut. She melts into his kiss instinctively, but a frustrated groan leaves her lips against his own as she realizes what he’s done. She doesn’t protest, however, as his fingers tug slightly at her hair, pulling it loose from its ponytail and releasing a mess of curls around her neck.

The kiss tastes like mocha and burns on Peter’s lips, causing his eyes to water again. But as her hand clutches at his shirt, insistently pulling him closer, Peter doesn’t think for a moment about pulling away.

It is only after several moments that their lips stop moving. MJ breaks the kiss apart, but her grip on him does not loosen as Peter greedily gasps for air. The cool, autumn chill doesn’t do much to soothe the burning of his mouth, but it certainly doesn’t hurt as he draws in deep breaths, his nose brushing hers as he does.

“Ouch,” MJ groans, leaning down to rest her forehead against his own with her eyes still closed. “That stings like a-”

“Feeling sorry yet?” Peter hums, grinning slightly at her. Even with her eyes closed, her brow is puckered slightly in response to the spice.

MJ’s eyes open then, and amusement and something more demanding glimmer in their depths as she murmurs, “Not even a little bit, Parker.” Her hand creeps up from his neck to cup his face insistently, and Peter’s breath catches as her thumb brushes the corner of his lips.

“Then I’ll have to make you,” Peter whispers, his heart sputtering as he closes his eyes again.

“Shame,” she remarks dryly, and this time it is MJ who pulls him in, immediately sinking into the heat.

It is ten minutes later when MJ walks into the cafe through the front door, her hair a mess in a hastily-done ponytail and her own eyes a bit too watery to be just from the chill. No seems to notice that, as she sits down, MJ takes a deep draft of her mocha, letting out a relieved breath as she sets it down again.  

Immediately, the Township team jumps back into drills, but MJ can’t help but look up when Peter finally comes in from the back door. His cheeks are pink, too, but it has nothing to do with the tingling heat in his mouth that has just now begun to calm down.

“Nice hair, Jones,” Peter remarks as he sits down in his seat, his back turned to the dark-eyed girl with slightly swollen lips.

“Whatever, loser,” she mumbles in response, tucking a stray curl behind her ear.

Still, there is the ghost of a grin hovering on her tingling lips, one that is mirrored on the burning mouth of the messy-haired dork with his back to her in the booth opposite the cafe.  


End file.
